Page 49 of A Gathering Storm

Ward quickly crossed the room to light the lamp, the match he struck flaring brightly in the darkness, then quickly subsiding. He let the flame recover its strength before lifting the glass chimney from the lamp and touching the match to the oily wick. As soon as he replaced the chimney, the flame seared, rising high and bright—too bright. He fiddled with the knob till he’d dimmed it to his liking.

When he turned back to Nicholas, it was to find that the man had already removed his coat, waistcoat, and tie. His shirt gaped at the neck, revealing a tantalizing slice of shadowy, tawny skin and his dark hair gleamed in the lamplight. He was smiling faintly at Ward, his gaze warm and appreciative, and exuding that characteristic calmness that settled every jangling nerve in Ward’s body.

“You look . . . very nice,” Ward said hoarsely.

In truth, Nicholas didn’t looknice, he looked beautiful. Not that he seemed to mind Ward’s blandly decorous words. If anything, he was amused, one side of his mobile mouth kicking up in the charming half smile Ward liked so well.

“You do too, but you’re a bit buttoned-up for my liking,” Nicholas replied, moving towards Ward and reaching for the buttons of his coat. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Dry-mouthed, Ward nodded mutely.

Nicholas dealt with his buttons in a matter of moments, pushing the coat from Ward’s shoulders. It dropped noiselessly to the floor, and of one accord, they moved closer together, close enough to kiss.

“Such a handsome face you’ve got,” Nicholas murmured, tracing his thumb over one of Ward’s eyebrows. “Eyes like acorns.”

“Acorns?” Ward repeated, amused despite himself.

Nicholas’s smile was sheepish. “That’s what they look like to me,” he said. “But I’m no poet.” He leaned in, his breath warm against Ward’s mouth, lips near enough to capture without effort.

“You look into my eyes, and you seeacorns,” Ward repeated, grinning.

“I do,” Nicholas confirmed, smiling. “Right now, they’re a light, woody brown, like when acorns are properly ripe and they’ve fallen off the tree in the natural way. The way they are when you find them on the forest floor, with their little caps falling off.”

Ward blinked, surprised by how much thought Nicholas seemed to have given this.

“But sometimes,” Nicholas went on, almost dreamily, “they’re more like those greenish ones that aren’t so ripe. The ones that are holding tight to their caps, you know?”

Ward did know. He knew exactly the shade Nicholas meant, and it surprised him because if he’d been asked what colour an acorn was, he’d have saidbrown. Just brown.

“My mother says I have hazel eyes,” Ward husked.

Nicholas looked interested. “Is that the proper word?”

Ward shrugged. “It’s the word my mother uses.”

“I’m sure it’s right then,” Nicholas teased. “Whatever colour you call them, they’re beautiful.”

“So are yours,” Ward said with helpless honesty.

Nicholas laughed, amused. “You don’t need to pay me back, compliment for compliment.”

“I mean it,” Ward protested. “They’re like . . . starlight.” And with that, he lifted his chin, closing the tiny gap between them, settling his lips on Nicholas’s.

He didn’t know quite what to do after that, but Nicholas appeared to be happy to take charge and Ward was very happy to let him. Moaning with pleasure, Nicholas slid his sleek, sinuous tongue into Ward’s mouth, drawing Ward’s into play.

Oh God, the things Ward had been missing with not kissing . . .

He grasped Nicholas’s hips and pulled him closer, thrusting their groins together as Nicholas explored his mouth with his lips and tongue, suckling and nipping and licking at him as though he was a delicious treat.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Ward reached for the hem of Nicholas’s shirt. “I want you to fuck me,” he murmured against Nicholas’s lips as he pushed the linen up, uncovering the man’s belly, then his chest. “I want you inside me.”

Nicholas groaned at that, lifting his arms so that Ward could strip the shirt off him in one swift move. Ward threw the shirt aside and ran his hands over Nicholas’s broad shoulders and down his hard, muscular chest, loving the rasp of chest hair under his palms, the way Nicholas’s small nipples peaked under his touch.

“And I really want to feel your skin against mine,” Ward muttered.

“God, yes,” Nicholas gasped and began fumbling the placket of his trousers open. Ward followed suit, both of them stripping as quickly as they could, before coming together again, naked this time, for more deep, devouring kisses.

Nicholas’s cock was like iron against Ward’s, hard and flushed. Their shafts bumped and duelled, the blunt heads rubbing and nudging as they kissed, on and on. It was Ward who finally, regretfully, broke the kiss. He took Nicholas’s hand in his and led him to the bed, urging him to lie down on his back before turning away to extract a small jar from his valise.